These Inconvenient Fireworks
by Jusrecht
Summary: A collection of stories. When Don Cavallone is determined to make a certain Cloud Guardian his wife. Dino x fem!Hibari
1. These Inconvenient Fireworks

**These Inconvenient Fireworks (Part 1)  
Author: Jusrecht**

**Characters/Pairing: **Dino/fem!Hibari, slight fem!Hibari/Gokudera

**Disclaimer: **KHR and these characters belong to Amano Akira. The twisted genderbending of Hibari's person, however, is a child of a fangirl's (or a few fangirls') desperate mind. The title 'These Inconvenient Fireworks' is taken from Vienna Teng's song, _Stray Italian Greyhound. _

**Warning: **Some drabbles are rated R or M for mature contents.

**Notes: **These are basically a collection of drabbles I did for August's 31_days prompts in LJ. Since the Dino/fem!Hibari drabbles are connected to one another, I decided to combine them into one.

—

—

**(On the Matter of Definition, PG-13, 100 words)**_  
- August 5: lay me down in a field of flame and heather -_

"This spar has no purpose."

Dino blinks his eyes open, regards Hibari's scornful expression. He smiles. "It does, but perhaps not one you have in mind. What do you want, Kyouya?"

"To bite you dead."

For once Dino does not think. Hibari is strong, strange, beautiful, and for all her fierceness his hands feels her softness and his lips her warmth.

"There," he pulls away, her taste in his mouth. "You've stolen my heart and a man without one is dead, no?"

If Hibari still finds fault in this logic, then it is evident in the swiftness of her tonfa.

—

—

**(Simplicity, G, 250 words)**_  
- August 6: three thousand five hundred miles away -_

Simplicity is all Tsuna ever wishes in life. A tall wish, he reflects wryly, for the leader of so powerful a _famiglia_, and yet he finds himself mournfully longing for the impossible in the face of a potentially embarrassing conversation with a fellow mafia don.

"Dino-san," he begins nonetheless, gingerly standing between entreaty and reproach, "you have not visited for months."

"Five months." Surely he is just imagining the trace of amusement in Dino's voice. Surely this is not a subject suitable for any degree of mirth. "Is something the matter, Tsuna?"

_Yes, something** is** the matter because my Cloud Guardian's tempestuous fury in the wake of your prolonged absence will soon bring an end to **my **entire Family, which is in fact something **you** can easily correct by regular visits–_

But Tsuna swallows this tirade in the name of courtesy and chivalrously answers, "No, nothing important."

The pause speaks of a concealed smile from the other end of the line. "Perhaps I can arrange a visit in the next few weeks," Dino suggests, "but I'll have to speak with Romario first to make sure."

"Please try," Tsuna manages to respond briefly, the bulk of his despair still firmly locked within.

When later that day Gokudera reports the obliteration of one of their warehouses, courtesy of inflating hedgehogs, Tsuna calls Dino's right-hand man himself and mentions the state of relationship between their Families and the possibility of deterioration stemming from very trivial social neglect.

At least _that _makes it simpler.

—

—

**(Even Walls Start to Bend, PG-13, 200 words)**_  
- August 8: love is a ghost train rumbling through the darkness -_

This is rare indeed, Dino thinks, smiles at the woman curled up to his side. Kyouya is never one to wear intimacy in place of immaculate black suits, but five months of absence has a fair chance to make a difference.

Perhaps it has. She didn't challenge him into a fight when he arrived, but her tonfa missed his face despite the unanticipated start, her sweep stiff, graceless. Her knuckles were white from too-tight grips, and Dino repented.

In the pale silvery glow, she looks the proud sister of Apollo, aloof, untouchable but for his fingers and smiles. Dino thinks himself lucky, but a don needs a wife and his Family an heir. Kyouya has refused his proposals too many times and he is now past thirty—the stakes are too great. It is either this, or to move on.

But Dino believes in love. Kyouya will not let him go, never. It wasn't lust that so stifled her grace, but anger born of different master. The next time he asks, the twenty-sixth proposal, she will accept. He will make her.

Tomorrow then, Dino promises, a kiss to the top of her head. No other woman will bear his child.

—

—

**(Between Scars, R, 450 words)**_  
- August 9: but what would you change if you could? -_

Morning dispels not only dreams, but also illusions spun of white sheets and moon's precious glow. In the stumbling daylight, his eyes easily find her angles and curves, pale flesh so strewn with scars. His tongue traces one jagged end to another slanting arc, burn marks and cold imprints of a blade's sharp edge. Proud as he is for her strength, they ignite the same fire in his guts as he reads, slowly, all fights chronicled across stitched-over membranes.

That she stirs and seeks the length of his back isn't the intended effect but welcomed nonetheless. He bends to accommodate her touch and kisses the dark tip of her left nipple.

"Kyouya," he calls, swallows the salty taste of her skin. She growls, a snarled permission at the feel of his mouth—and now fingers—but scarce lessens her vicious grasp in his hair. Dino winces, hides the twist of his lips with a kiss to her belly; then again, he never does wish for a princess.

Admittedly, a princess will be much easier to court and entice. A princess requires no underhand scheme, but Kyouya, he reflects sadly, Kyouya has always been special. While others blush for pretty trinkets, she thrives before raw challenges. And for this he tilts his head, crooks one finger inside her, and asks, "Will you marry me, Kyouya?"

She bites the inside of her cheek, but otherwise only her eyes narrow into a baleful glare, nails still a threat on the juncture of his neck. He does not move—_cannot _this time around, surely she understands—and holds her gaze instead.

"Bastard."

"I love you," he says solemnly, the intruding finger removed, and presses his cheek to the inside of her thigh. "And I will make you happy. Please, will you do me the honour of being my wife, to be the one I love and cherish forever?"

"Lies," she hisses, almost softly if not for the rancour underneath, nails drawing blood from his neck. Dino realises his mistake and smiles.

"Forgive me," he gently kisses her thigh. "For as long as I live, and this is not a promise I make lightly."

She cares—she must. Dino has spent the better part of his adult life trying to convince himself that Kyouya cares, can do so despite a heart carved out of stone. Now he waits for judgment, all hopes bared, gambled.

"Get down on your knees," she finally speaks, these words spat as if poison, "and beg. _Properly._"

He blinks, surprised. "Really?"

"I may change my mind," she threatens, tugs hard at his hair. Dino grins in response, a victor's crest, and gently applies a grateful mouth.

"I love you."

"Shut up."

—

—

**(For Better or Worse, G, 475 words)**_  
- August 15: under the gun -_

When Dino comes to him after breakfast and solicits a private meeting with only he and Hibari present, Tsuna hardly needs the illustrious Vongola intuition to sound a warning bell.

Entering his office has never felt quite as daunting as it does now. Dino is generous with charming smiles and hearty laughs, but Hibari is ruthlessly glowering at everything that moves and Tsuna, trapped between two vastly different sentiments, opts for safety in the ambiguity of silence and proceeds to wait.

"Tsuna," Dino begins after a perfunctory comment on the beauty of the day, falling into solemnity such that befits his true title, "I mean, Vongola Decimo. I must ask you to forgive my boldness in advance, should this proposition offends you in any manner—as it is very likely to. I realise that to take one of your Guardians away may cause certain difficulties for the Vongola Family, and therefore I must ask now if I may be fortunate enough to actually have your permission."

_But you already took one,_ Tsuna nearly answers if not for the murderous glare Hibari now sees fit to dispatch to his general direction.

"I already said that I am my own person and where I go is my own business."

Dino smiles at her in a placating fashion. "Yes, Kyouya, but still. It's only proper to ask Tsuna first since you belong–"

"I do not belong to anyone."

"Certainly, my dear. Likewise, in the future it will never cross anybody's mind to address you as _Signora_ Cavallone."

Unmistakably certain hell is imminent when Tsuna finally finds some pluck to intervene. "You mean," he says tentatively, "you intend to marry Hibari-san?"

Both stare at him, one grinning and the other obviously fighting an urge to demolish something, and he stares back, still mired in doubts. Surely no one has predilection for masochism in so great an extent—but clearly, once again he is to be proven wrong. Tsuna has to struggle for calmness when Dino reaches for Hibari's left hand and kisses the back.

"Just this morning, Kyouya has agreed to marry me."

"Oh," is his automatic response, quickly followed by a less imprudent, "Congratulations."

"Then may I assume that I have your permission?"

"Of course—not that I claim any form of ownership over Hibari-san," Tsuna hastily adds, "but as far as Vongola is concerned, I cannot say there is any objection. Also the matter of guardianship naturally holds a second place to that of our affiliation."

And that it will no doubt benefit everyone's peace of mind is of even greater importance, but he refrains from using those exact words in fear of provoking his irritable Cloud—whose temper tantrum has proven matchless in term of destructive power.

Well, not _his_ anymore. Between relief and melancholy, Tsuna nevertheless finds a smile when he wishes them happiness.

.

"And," he whispers in a low voice as soon as Hibari leaves the room, "perhaps I should also wish you luck?"

Dino laughs—and if there is a tinge of hysteria in it, Tsuna is always inclined to pretend ignorance. "I know, but there is no one I love more than her in this world. Besides, it could have been worse."

"Really?"

"Kyouya could have been a man."

Both laugh and agree that it would certainly be disastrous.

—

—

**(Lacrimosa, PG-13, 350 words)**_  
- August 16: the crumbling distance between wrong and right -_

"Traitor."

Hibari's smirk is an infernal thing. Gokudera wants to rip it off, strip it bloodless and paint the dark hall with these mute mockeries, thick enough to drown the sounds of celebration—but he cannot, will not. Hibari is not as charitable as to let him win, not once. She approaches, graceful with intent to destroy, and her footsteps are deliberate. Gokudera inhales a lungful of smoke, waits, does not pretend ignorance when any mask is too thin to matter.

"Afraid your precious Family will crumble after I leave?" Her voice is deep, an instrument of no other purpose but to cut. More than anything, Gokudera thinks, he hates her wiles.

"You have responsibilities as a Guardian," he snarls, acrimony wrapped around his voice like thorns, "but in the end I guess you're just a woman. Ruled by a weak heart. To throw away everything for a man–"

She has always been fast, brutally so. When her tonfa smothers his throat, he has not even blinked. "I've never belonged to Vongola," she says, her lips close enough to tempt the tender skin under his jaw. "If you don't want to provoke an allied Family, tread carefully, _Consigliere_."

He chokes a scathing laugh. "As if your husband has enough guts to do it."

"Then make sure never to offend me." Her words are near a whisper but still no less than a command. His cigarette slips to the marble floor when she presses a knee between his legs. He gasps—her dark, taunting laugh will haunt him for weeks.

"Traitor," Gokudera repeats for the sake of it, his fingers grasping the roots of her hair. He feels her smirk, a malicious curve that mocks his weakness. Her dark hair whispers along his jaw and he hisses softly when a sharp bite follows.

"Herbivore."

He curls his fingers into fist in an effort not to reach out when she sweeps away, back to the ballroom and her fiancé's smiles. Gokudera only has himself to laugh at when he finds the Cloud Vongola Ring in his left hand.

_Traitor_, he thinks.

—

—

**(Unfolding Page By Page, M, 380 words)**_  
- August 23: I belong in the service of the queen -_

Dino pulls, hands straining against silk which has his wrists bound. A keening sound uncoils in his throat at the feel of Kyouya's nails scraping across his chest, the rising arch of his ribs, the valley of his stomach. Her other hand moves slowly between his thighs, but she does not tease, never, has no need for such art if by the sharpness of mocking she can achieve the same end, and more.

He wonders if his departure tomorrow is the cause of this, but her touches make his head swim. Robbed of sight and speech both, the scent from her tie, coiled firm around his mouth, unravels his clear-cut, centred focus. She seeks not to pleasure, but to control—and is doing such a fine job on it. Dino thinks he needs no further proof when she gives him a sharp nip on the hipbone, and altogether removes her hand; his reactions stifled, he resorts to whines and frantic pleas, wanting _more oh so much more_.

Kyouya is silent when she lowers herself onto him. Likewise, he makes every effort to stay still; focuses instead on the sharpness of her nails, the warmth of her thighs splayed across his hips. He imagines her thick lashes, the pale skin of her belly beaded with sweat, and her lips red from fierce bites to belie her pleasure. His backs arches when her hands return, fingers dancing across black fire and brightly coloured tattoos.

Even bound and gagged, he is more vocal. Dino thinks he hears her laugh, that sharp, proud echo amidst her soft gasps. But she rocks harder, deeper, and it is the sudden tightening of her flesh which finally snaps his limit and makes him come.

Her weight slumps atop him; he feels the softness of her breasts against his chest, her thundering heartbeat, her shuddering breath as he struggles with his own body. Her tongue licks the long column of his neck, the curve of his jaw and he moans again, still buried deep inside her. With the same impatience she has shown her enemies, she rips the silk tie away from his mouth.

"You belong to me," she breathes to his lips, close to a whisper. Dino smiles unseeing and his answer finds home in her kiss.

—

—

**(Calando, PG, 500 words)**_  
- August 24: I'm almost drowning in her sea -_

The first to approach him was Sasagawa Ryouhei. After Tsuna had announced the happy news, it was Ryouhei who clapped the loudest, grinned the widest. When he approached for a congratulatory handshake, it was with a grip strong enough to fracture bones of a frailer person—but as luck would have it, Dino happened to be a man sufficiently toughened by a childhood spent on tripping and falling to floors of bricks, marbles, asphalt and gravels; he withstood the agony with little more than a pained smile.

Yamamoto Takeshi sought him out at the engagement party. Amidst best wishes and good-natured laughs, he mentioned the closeness of the Vongola, the loyalty they shared with one another, and how throughout their life an offence against one of theirs had never gone unpunished. Dino considered the message accepted and cheerfully, if warily, toasted Yamamoto's glass.

The most unscrupulous, the most conniving method was nearly always Rokudo Mukuro's first choice. His tactic was never the clear sounding of war drums, but two spies' illicit tryst in the middle of the night. His approach to timing was impeccable, so much that Dino found himself silently watching their fight from the door. Kyouya's eyes would always burn at the thought of him, her first defeat and humiliation, and this was but a little reminder. Mukuro decorated his triumphant defeat with wicked laughter as his trident danced with her tonfa.

A more peaceful front could be expected from Lambo. Far too staid for his fifteen years, he extended his personal congratulation when Dino chanced upon him on his way to Tsuna's office. The bazooka, now a constant company slung from his right shoulder, once more meddled with time and it was an older Lambo who told him, how in his world Hibari-san remained firm in her refusal and Don Cavallone had soon after married a woman of his Family's choosing. When the fifteen-year-old Lambo returned, Dino waved his apology away with a forced laugh.

Tsuna, he thought, had kindly remained silent in this matter, but then again Tsuna hardly needed words to convey his sentiments. Older brother or not, Dino knew very well that he would face the Vongola Decimo's wrath if he ever dared to upset _his_ Cloud Guardian in any manner. That Vongola had yet to choose another guardian was not for lack of worthy candidates.

On the day of his departure, he found Gokudera Hayato waiting for him at the airport, stiff-backed and frowning under white curls of smoke. By now, Dino had been expecting it and so said first, "I'll make her happy."

Gokudera's scowl deepened. "The Tenth sends a message," he said, almost brusquely. "_Have a safe journey_."

Dino heard Romario's soft snort and smiled—he was not the only one who suspected Tsuna's true intention. "Please thank Tsuna for me," he answered politely.

"And you see to that promise, Bucking Horse."

When he opened his mouth to answer, the Storm Guardian had walked past him and disappeared amidst the crowd.

.

"Do you know what I must endure in order to marry you?"

For a long moment, there was only silence from the other side of the line. And then, "Do you know what _I_ must endure once I marry _you_?"

Dino laughed then—her clipped response actually made him feel better. "But it's all worth it, isn't it, Kyouya?"

"Don't call me again until you arrive."

Dino complied; as soon as he had landed in Rome, he called.

—

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**Notes: **Thank you for reading and please review :"D


	2. From Falling, From Stifling

**From Falling, From Stifling**** _(These Inconvenient Fireworks Part 2)_**  
Author: Jusrecht

**Characters/Pairing: **Dino/fem!Hibari

**Rating: **NC-17 like woah

**Warning: **Sex. PWP. Very NSFW.

**Notes: **This takes place roughly three months after their marriage.

* * *

She is always the dangerous arm of shadows, dark, beautiful, fluid, her only presence in the sharp clicking of her heels and the shadow of two men at her side. The short dress and long coat, black on pale skin, sharpen her profile in layers of contrast. Dino raises an eyebrow in surprise, facile pleasantries still lingering about his mouth.

"Kyouya."

The corridor, grey-walled and dimly lit, leads to the basement parking area. Their exit route is known only to few, but as his men part to make way for the boss's wife, Dino's lips curve into a smile, its validity only challenged by the ambiguous outcome of the meeting earlier. He briefly wonders how Kyouya has found him, with all the steps and precautions taken to keep it a secret given the delicate nature of the subject. She has gone for nearly two weeks, pursuing her own ends separate from his Family; the sight of her now, long-legged, her beauty sharpened by his own longing, is bliss.

That is not to say he expects her to return his greeting in any remotely affectionate manner. He swallows his surprise when Kyouya crushes their lips together, stilettos effectively narrowing the gap between their heights. Her hands fist the front of his suit as she pushes him flat to the wall, never gentle. If any of their men is shocked by such proceeding, Dino barely notices—the heat of her lips is making his head spin.

Until he remembers their place.

"Kyouya, this isn't–"

She once more kisses the rest of his protest silent and employs a well-placed knee to decimate what little remains of his reluctance. He returns the favour in earnest, one hand travelling along the smooth skin of her thigh, the other pushing down her coat to reveal bare shoulders. His mind vaguely registers Romario's voice, calm, unchanging, sending hurried footsteps to secure the perimeter, more so than to give them some semblance of privacy.

"You were saying?"

He laughs at the taunt, momentarily closing his eyes as her whispered words ghost over the sensitive skin under his jaw. As she works on his belt, his own hand slips beneath the hem of her dress, steadily going upward until it reaches her buttocks, and then squeezes, making her arch toward him. She doesn't make a sound, not until he reaches between her legs and touches her through thin layer of silk.

Kyouya hisses sharply, fingers clawing at his hips as her thighs clench in response. The intensity of her reaction alarms him for a moment—not to mention in so public a place—but she viciously nips at his jaw when he stops, her breath stuttering. Carefully, Dino lets one digit slip under the fabric, and almost as soon feels the moisture on his fingertip, enough to slick the entire length of his finger, and more.

He smiles against her cheek, uncontrollable. "I must admit I didn't expect this."

"I'll bite you to death if you keep talking."

The fierceness of her voice widens his smile, which soon dissolves into a gasp as she touches him in return; her intent is clear, and it doesn't take him long to catch up and make his decision. In one fluid motion he flips them around, now her against the wall, his knee parting her legs.

Her smirk is dark, promises shadowed by legions of other threats, eyes hooded. Dino groans and kisses her again, their heated breaths clashing against each other's as her panties are discarded atop her coat. His hands remember their procedure and Kyouya is more than cooperative when they lift her buttocks. Rare as it is for such occasion to arise, he works by both instinct and fading memory, holding her weight against the wall, the tip of her stilettos digging into his back.

Everything about Kyouya is sharp, he reflects, faint through the heavy fog clouding his mind. She arches, hips lifting at his first slow breach—she doesn't want _slow_, or gentle, and her body tells him so. Kyouya is all impatience, her voice wrapping around a growl, her hips rocking against his, fingers scraping his scalp, pulling ruthlessly at his hair. Dino stifles a moan when her muscles ripples along his length, the most he will ever get from his wife by way of request to _fuck me please._

A few short thrusts are all it takes for her to climax. Her body trembles violently as she clenches around him, eyes snapped shut and neck bared. He almost doesn't remember the last time Kyouya allowed herself to be this vulnerable—so long time ago, after she very nearly bit him to death out of irrational jealousy. To Dino's credit, the rumour of his so-called infidelity was thoroughly unfounded, although he would admit meeting the celebrated soprano a few times.

Kyouya looks at him, her molten-dark eyes a stunning contrast with the red bloom on her lips. Her legs draw him even deeper, now slicker, easier, without allowing her body a moment's rest despite the hiss repeatedly uncurling in her throat.

Dino makes a sound that is part desire and part frustration; whenever possible, he intends to go slow, but this notion is obviously impractical at the moment. Her tight heat proves too much and he surrenders easily, eager to taste the salty tang of her blood, different from the taste of sweat. Kyouya moans into his mouth as he drives into her, once more falling into their familiar pattern, a simple dance of in and out, tongues clashing and heartbeats quickening.

She is more vocal this second time around, her control slackened by pleasure instead of desperation. Through the veil of his lashes, he watches emotions shift on her face, the tense working of her throat which is much too unused to these sounds—but is soon forced to abandon scrutiny. He is unravelling, his rhythm collapsing to short, rapid thrusts, and he kisses the pale column of her throat, buries his nose in her scent, with her nails on his shoulder blade, on the back of his neck. Around his hips, her thighs are quivering, tightening, and he comes.

What Dino remembers the most is her voice, curving like that, wordless, aching—and then her panting gasps, raspy, her mouth hot before his ear. A few blissful blank seconds tiptoe past until he feels his legs trembling, their combined weight now mostly supported by the wall. Her limbs are still a vice around his body and he breathes deeply.

"It must have been some mission," he murmurs, rough-voiced, amused.

"Shut up."

Her venom is lost under half-parted lids, the layered thickness of her voice. He smiles and presses his lips against hers, gentler.

_**End**_


	3. To the Depth And Breadth And Height

**To the Depth And Breadth And Height**  
**Author: Jusrecht**

**Pairing: **Dino/fem!Hibari

**Rating: **PG-13

**Note: **Written for Valentine's Day although the story itself doesn't have anything to do with Valentine's lol The original premise was to have pregnant!Bari kicking some serious ass but... it deviated a bit orz

Title is taken from the poem "How Do I Love Thee" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

* * *

—

The sunset's burn had dimmed, leaving only traces of red-gold streaks on indigo clouds. Dino marched the length of the swimming pool in long, quick strides, haste and fury one and the same in stiffly coiled muscles. But once he had caught the sight of her, reclining on a long settee, eyes closed against the waning light, the blinding force of his anger disappeared, usurped by such overwhelming relief that he could almost weep.

"You're late."

Kyouya's voice carried always a trace of indifference that twisted a knife into his guts. Numb now after the surge of relief had passed, Dino could not even manage a flinch, a word, a sheepish laugh—anything. He fell down to both knees and stared at her, dumb, hollow, without anger or purpose.

"You thought I could not carry out a simple mission." Her dry amusement was evident, almost bitter in the lash of her tongue. Dino watched for a shift of expression on her face, her cruelly beautiful face, but there was none.

"I did not think." He found his voice at last. "When I heard about it, I could not think at all."

(When Don Farnese turned a pair of crazed, accusing eyes at him, the phone slipping from his fingers' clutch. _"My son,"_ he whispered, hoarse, broken, not a trace of the suave man he had performed a vicious verbal spar with for the last hour. _"You treacherous son of a whore, your wife murdered my son."_ And the inferno that soon followed. The bullet that narrowly avoided his neck. The impotent rage that never left a grieving father's face even after Dino had ripped the body into pieces with the blind torrent of his Sky flames.)

"His son was waiting in ambush." Kyouya's clinical voice tore into the ghastly parade of memories. "It was rather a smart plan. Once you had concluded your business with the father, no suspicion could befall them if you were to be found dead afterwards."

Dino closed his eyes, discovering logic beyond his reach. "You shouldn't have done it."

"And let you fall into their trap?"

"I could take care of it," his self-defence burst forth at that accusation, like a sudden gale. "In your present condition–"

"You see me as weak now," she practically spat the words. Dino would have flinched, but the numbness had not subsided. He stared at her instead, unblinking.

"No." His voice came out a soft, defeated whisper. "Never. But my fear is irrational—you, Kyouya, are carrying my child."

Her smiles, when they deigned to appear, were never the children of joy. This one mocked him, mocked his love and sincerity and everything else that defined their marriage. So did her voice when she said, "Of course, it's the child you're worried about."

"Don't," he breathed out sharply, a word full of pain. "Please don't jest about this, Kyouya."

Pleas would only irritate her; he knew how much she hated weakness. When she moved, he expected the cold density of her tonfa against his cheek, but her hand was naked, unarmed when it gripped the back of his neck. Then she kissed him, her lips vicious and wet and soaked with jealousy—and he knew that she knew. She could smell the blood on him as easily as he could feel the presence of her hand, the ruthless fingers which had repeatedly torn lives from mortal coils, now allowing strands of his hair slipping between their gaps.

"Is he dead?"

Her words caressed him like sweet poison, and her eyes, this close, were a sharp, clear grey. Before them, Dino could not find the strength in him to nod.

"Yes."

"His underlings?"

"Yes."

"Are you angry?"

"I don't know."

Her hand released him, as abruptly as it had come. He remained where he was, following her movement with his eyes as she leaned back into the settee's soft embrace. She was heavy now, seven months into, and Dino tried not to imagine how she had killed Don Farnese's son. He knew that pregnancy did not rob her of her battle grace—nothing could, it was ingrained in her the way hunting impulse was in wild beasts—but lesser things had caused miscarriage.

He knew that there was nothing _lesser_ about her.

Slowly, as if in a trance, Dino touched the swell of her belly, his fingers following the curved shape from crest to bottom. He was barely conscious of her eyes, that translucent grey, watching him from beneath lowered lids. Here was the making of life, the magic of their world. What he had done before, barely an hour ago, to forty-seven breathing, living creatures of the same magic, had been the unmaking.

Dino felt his hand tremble. The cold whisper of death had not touched him for a long time.

"If anything happens to you," his throat worked slowly, each word a heavy, conscious effort, "by God, I don't know what I'll do."

Kyouya did not respond for a long time. The silence was thick in his ears when he finally looked up, at her face, expecting disgust, weariness, annoyance, indifference. It struck him all of a sudden, how used he was of thinking in the negative length when it came to her.

"There is no need to be so dramatic." Her answer was dry, flat, devoid of any of those things. Some of his fear lifted and he could laugh then, a thin sound that scraped his throat like a sob—but he _laughed_; it was a curiously liberating action.

"So a simple _'I love you'_ will suffice?" Dino asked softly.

"No." Her voice hardened, and so did her eyes. "Your coming back to me. Alive. I don't care if you have to drag yourself to hell and back to obey. Only that will suffice."

And then he remembered, above all thoughts of fear and disgust and coldness, why he was here—why _she_ was here, with his ring around her finger. For all her bites and spite, she was here, carrying his child, and not somewhere else beyond his reach: alone, distant, unbound, as Clouds should be.

Kyouya distorted everything, even love—but that love was his to claim and his alone, for not even she could change it. He remembered now, everything hidden behind her indifference and callousness, those jealously guarded secrets he had nearly forgotten.

"I'll remember that," he promised her, every word a vow, and kissed the back of her hand.

Her knuckles grazed his lips, lightly, and he smiled at her answer—always wordless, always thin, but always there.

**_End_**

—


End file.
